


Songbird or Vulture?

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Clans (Warriors), mention of canon clans, scavenging, this gets dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11227887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: No cat is born bad.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an RP character I've had for a few years. She's been through some shit. I actually started her as a kitten and everything progressed from there over time.
> 
> **I DO NOT SUPPORT CANNIBALISM BUT CATS ARE CARNIVOROUS ANIMALS AND MEAT IS MEAT. Cats have been known to eat whatever is available when they're starving.**
> 
> Visual Reference: http://skunktaildax.tumblr.com/post/162726876267/crowclan

Robinkit was born to a tortoiseshell mother in Riverclan, a she-cat named Brushfire. She was a very dark brown with a lighter tip to her tail and a patch of ginger on her throat. She belonged to a small little of just three, herself and two brothers. The toms were a light ginger tabby and a black one. 

Robinkit never could remember their names. Perhaps they hadn’t had any names. She hadn't had a name when she was taken.

There was a fifth clan that had formed just beyond the carrionplace in a small, awful-smelling marsh. To call it a clan was a bit off, though. It was more like a bunch of rogues had grouped together. They took the kits of other clans to train as their own warriors. Robinkit and her brothers were among those taken. Her brothers didn't last the night.

There were eleven kits kept in the odd, round leg of a monster. Some tried to climb out, but it was useless. The youngest ones died of starvation over the course of a few hours. A brown tom would pass by occasionally to take any of the dead away. 

Robinkit hissed and swatted at him once when his nose got too close. He responded by snapping his jaws a whisker’s breadth from her face. He laughed when she flinched and continued on his task of collecting the corpses.

When morning came only four kits had survived. They were greeted by a skinny black she-cat with a white streak running from the right side of her muzzle down to her chest. 

“I’m going to let you out now.” The she-cat started in a tone that oozed cold indifference. “If you try to run away we will catch you and you will die.”

Robinkit gulped, steeling what was left of her nerve to step toward the bigger female. She was pulled out of the tire and dropped outside of it with a thud. A few apprentices looked up from where they sat at the prey pile. They weren’t eating. They just appeared to be playing a strange game that involved flicking strange stones a certain way.

A russet she-kit was placed beside Robinkit, soon followed by a black tom with large ears and a brown tabby. The apparent leader quickly named them Foxkit, Batkit, and Ivykit respectively.

“My name is Crowstar. Deerpaw, make yourself useful. Keep an eye on the kits and feed them. I’m sure they’re old enough to have teeth.” The apparent leader said, stepping away as an apprentice replaced her.

Deerpaw had siamese markings over tan fur and only a tuft for a tail. He had a bit of a wobble in his hind left leg and scars over his hip and muzzle.

“Alright, you four listen, it’s for your own good. If you run away you die. If you disrespect a superior you die. If you get sick you can wander off to die because we don’t have a medicine cat right now.” Deerpaw explained.

“You look hurt though.” Batkit piped up. “You’re leg’s all funny.”

Deerpaw sent the black kit a glare that could cripple a dog. “You look like a rat. Funny nobody’s killed you yet, huh?”

Batkit wisely shut his maw. Robinkit made a mental note to never bother the tom about his twitching.


	2. Chapter One: Crowstar's Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robinkit becomes Robinpaw!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowlclan doesn't follow the Warrior Code. Instead they have their own Code which will become clearer as it goes.

Most clan cats started their apprenticeship when they reached their sixth moon. This was for the apprentices safety. They had to be big enough to defend themselves as well as be able to endure long days of training. Crowclan, named for its founder, started training kits as early as four moons.

By their fourth moon Robinkit and Foxkit had become fast friends. Ivykit and Batkit were like littermates as well but for Robinkit, Foxkit was just different. They spent more time with each other and sought one another’s company whenever one of the warriors or apprentices decided to take a snap at them. They played together, slept together, and shared their meat.

Crowstar climbed onto the rusted, dead frame of a monster, which was half sunken in the marsh and called a meeting. She skipped the formalities and got right to the point once her deputy, Rabbitstep, had rounded up every cat in the camp. It was a quick thing. She gave Deerpaw the name Deertail and told him to mentor the newly named Ivypaw.

All four of the kits were given apprentice names. Foxpaw became the apprentice of Rabbitstep. A silver tabby tom named Longfang took Batpaw. Robinpaw was the last.

“Robinpaw,” Crowstar called, and the red-throated she-kit stepped forward. Experimentally, the leader unsheathed her claws. Robinpaw let her own claws free, long fur bristling at her back. “Always ready for a fight I see? You will be my apprentice.”

Robinpaw’s green eyes widened, her tail arching over her back. _The leader’s apprentice!_ She was careful to keep her expression serious, but inside she was absolutely giddy. There was no time to celebrate, however, because the second the meeting ended Crowstar had lunged for her.

The younger cat was given little time to react, but was glad that her claws were already out. She swiped them at the leader to try to deter the attack, but barely made contact before she was knocked onto her back, Crowstar’s fangs at her neck. They didn’t pierce, though the threat was there. Trusting instinct, Robinpaw brought her hind paws up to kick and scratch the bigger she-cat’s throat.

Crowstar let Robinpaw go a few seconds after. The kit got to her paws quickly, her tail puffed up and her ears flattened to her skull. She hissed, and Crowstar chuckled.

“You have a lot to learn. But you’ll do well, I think.” Crowstar said, sitting down and lashing her tail behind her. “First lesson will be at nightfall. You’ll be learning to hunt. You are not to eat anything until you catch something. I advise you to rest.” Crowstar then turned and leapt back onto the metal bones of the monster, climbing inside to her nest.

Foxpaw trotted over to Robinpaw once the leader had left. “Are you alright?” She asked.

Robinpaw was still shaken, but nodded. “I’m fine,” She smoothed out her fur, letting her russet friend help. “She said I learn to hunt tonight.”

“Lucky! I don’t get any lessons until tomorrow.” Foxpaw whined.

“I don’t get to eat until then.” Robinpaw elaborated.

“ _Oh._ ” Foxpaw grunted. “Well I guess I get to keep my dinner to myself then.” She sighed, her whiskers pulling closer to her face as she frowned. “That was scary, how she just pounced on you like you were a mouse. I would have run away…”

“If I had run I’d be no better than a mouse.” Robinpaw pointed out. “Runners are cowards, and ‘Cowards are-”

“-only useful as meat.’ I know.” Foxpaw finished. “I still would have run. I wouldn’t have even thought about it.”

“You’re a softie, that’s why.” Robinpaw teased, reaching over to swat at her friend's ear. “How you’ve survived this long here, I’ll never know.”

“Maybe it’s luck,” The other answered, “Or the fact you keep stealing bits of extra meat for me.”

Both of them chuckled, and Robinpaw left to take a nap before it would be time to go.


	3. Chapter Two: No Need for Sympathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robinpaw earns a scar.

“Stay clear of the teeth!” Crowstar yowled from the dead tree she was perched in as Robinpaw narrowly dodged a snake strike. “Get behind it you stupid kit.”

Robinpaw hissed, calling back a quick affirmative before circling around. The snake was not a venomous one, but practice had to be taken seriously. It turned too quickly for her to get behind it, and it kept trying to strike at her. Finally the apprentice had had enough, ignoring hooked teeth and letting the snake bite her. She turned to crush it’s head in her jaws, the serpent unable to dislodge itself from her skin.

Crowstar dropped from the branch, walked forward, and sniffed the fresh wound on the younger cat’s shoulder. “If that had been an adder you would be dead.” She said, slitted pupils narrowing further. 

“You said to kill it, and it’s dead now.” Robinpaw muttered, then screeched as a set of long claws struck her face. She fell to the ground, blinded for a moment from the pain. 

“I also said to avoid its teeth.” The leader pointed out coldly and turned away. “Get up, we’re going home. Bring the snake.”

Robinpaw pushed herself to her paws, her tail swinging a wide arc behind her to counterbalance before she fell over again. She raked a paw over her face, not surprised when her pads came away wet with her own blood. Unwilling to anger her mentor further, she quickly grabbed her kill and bounded after Crowstar. 

Back in camp, she dropped the snake in the kill pile. Much of it could hardly be called fresh, and other cats were a common sight in the pile. Foxpaw was alive however, sitting there as if she was waiting for something.

“Sympathy for the dead is a wish to join them.” Rabbitstep warned when he caught his own apprentice looking at a shredded kit for too long. “Pick something before it rots or get out of the way.”

Foxpaw startled back to herself and grabbed a bird, darting toward the pile of rubbage that passed for an apprentice den. She brushed pelts with Robinpaw on her retreat, and Robinpaw was quick to follow her. 

The apprentice den was a sort of squarish twoleg thing, with one side open. The opening was sharp around the edge, like see-through thorns. Foxpaw was curled up in a tiny ball near the back, shivering. The bird she had taken was discarded next to her. Robinpaw sighed, stepping into the den carefully. She nudged her friend who looked up.

“You’re hurt.” Foxpaw observed aloud.

“Not badly. It'll make me look tough.” Robinpaw dismissed, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Kits in the pile. Not much older than we were… I had to pull the bodies out of the monster-leg…” 

“We survived." Robinpaw assured, "They were weak.”

“They’re _kittens,_ Robin.” Foxpaw groaned, “They aren’t supposed to be strong yet.”

Robinpaw frowned, settling next to the other. She didn’t know what to say, and didn’t want to say the wrong thing again so she kept quiet. Foxpaw continued to shiver for a moment, her nerves still on edge. Eventually the russet apprentice calmed, cuddling closer to her friend. Robinpaw allowed it, and absently groomed the other's ears. 

“When we’re warriors I’m going to leave.” Foxpaw decided. 

“You can’t just-”

“I _can._ ” Foxpaw hissed. “When I’m bigger they won’t be able to stop me.”

Robinpaw sighed. She knew there would be no talking Foxpaw out of the idea now that she had it. She curled her dark tail around the other red ball of fur, almost a protective gesture.

“We’ll need to be pretty strong if we’re going to go anywhere.” Robinpaw stated.

Batpaw and Ivypaw made their way into their own nests a few minutes later, both complaining about sore muscles and the fact Batpaw had to change the moss for the sole queen Toadcall’s nest. Robinpaw rolled her eyes and took the bird before either of the toms had a chance to notice it, tearing a wing off and crunching through the bones. She knew Foxpaw wasn’t going to eat it and there was no need to let meat go to waste.

The next few moons passed in much the same fashion, with apprentice duties rotating around. Combat lessons, hunting lessons, tending to Toadcall until she had her kits, and clearing bodies from the monster-leg. It was tedious, but had to be done. 

The gash across Robinpaw’s snout never quite healed and she didn’t need a second scar to learn not to talk back to Crowstar again.


	4. Chapter Three: The First Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apprentices, aside from one, go one their first raid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Death and blood in this chapter.

Leaf-bare was an awful time. What little drinkable water there was had frozen. The air was too cold for snakes, lizards, or frogs to be out. All of the metal in the camp became dangerous to touch for the risk of it sticking to paw pads or noses and killing the skin there. Three of Toadcall’s five kits had died already.

Robinpaw had grown, as had her fellow apprentices. She was nearly as big as her mentor now, which she took pride in. She still wasn’t fully grown, but there was no rush. She had also developed a hobby of inviting anyone who would to spar with her. Foxpaw was the only cat she would sheathe her claws for, as she was perfectly willing to split skin on the others.

“We need warm meat.” Crowstar called on one of the colder days, “Most of our usual food is hibernating, but I’m sure one of our neighboring clans would be able to share their better fortune. Would any like to volunteer for a raid?”

Robinpaw stood, as did Longfang, Rabbitstep, Ivypaw, and Batpaw. Foxpaw was the only apprentice to stay seated, and Deertail’s overactive leg made it hard for him to participate in raids. The only reason the bobtail tom was still around was due to the fact that he was an especially talented tracker.

“Foxpaw,” Crowstar mewled. “Your mentor is coming with us. Why did you not stand?”

“Um…” Foxpaw’s gold eyes widened, not prepared for the question. “The… The camp needs guarding! Deertail can’t do it by himself.” 

The mentioned tom’s lip curled at the insult, but he let it slide. 

Crowstar was unamused. “You are an awful liar. If you aren’t ready to kill then say so. We’ll beat that out of you eventually. Rabbitstep, make sure to double her combat lessons.”

“Yes, Crowstar.” The tom confirmed.

Once the meeting had been dismissed and the warriors spread out to prepare for nightfall, but Robinpaw made sure to stick close to Foxpaw, just in case she was needed. They weren’t alone long, however, as the toms their age decided to join them to talk.

“What do you think we’ll be stealing?” Batpaw wondered aloud.

“Kits, probably.” Foxpaw answered sullenly.

“We might be after the other clan’s freshkill. If it’s Windclan they’ll have rabbits!” Ivypaw pointed out.

“All the rabbits are sleeping, genius.” Robinpaw hissed, then poked her nose against the russet’s shoulder. “You won’t have to kill anything this time! If you come with us later, though, you can stick with me and I’ll do all the bloody work. You can just carry things. Pretend they’re mice, that’s not much different.”

“Cats aren’t mice, Robin…” Foxpaw huffed.

“As good as.” Robinpaw corrected. “Meat is meat. We’re all starving. We can’t be picky.”

“Other clans get to be picky.” Foxpaw sighed and gave up on the conversation, tuning out as the others told each other imagined tales of glory. She was glad that the red-throated cat at least tried to understand her hesitation. She just didn’t fit in this clan, and Robinpaw fit too well. 

When night fell, the three apprentices that were included joined their mentors, aside from Batear who took the side of Rabbitstep in Deertail’s absence and since the deputy’s apprentice was also staying in camp. Crowstar lead them to the thunderpath, along the edge and across to Windclan territory. 

Shadowclan was much closer, but Crowclan left them alone. Crowstar herself had come from that clan and knew better than to steal from them until she had enough of her own warriors to be able to survive that fight. Shadowclan was both literally and figuratively too close to home. Windclan was farther and easier to raid.

Windclan’s night patrol was aware of the intruders as soon as the border was crossed. Two warriors stayed to fight while an apprentice ran to warn the others. Ivypaw and Robinpaw were quick to chase the Windclan apprentice down, pinning him as the warriors fought. 

“Kill him.” Crowstar ordered.

Robinpaw didn’t even hesitate to sink her fangs into the younger cat’s throat, ripping it open. She had expected it to feel different to kill a cat. She knew Foxpaw got nauseous even thinking about such a thing, but plunging her fangs through fur and skin until the blood pooled in her mouth felt no different than if she had done the same to the rabbit. She let the foreign apprentice go once the body stopped struggling, licking her maw clean. She was glad to notice the brief, approving nod from her occupied mentor.

With the patrol dead, Windclan had no warning before the raid was in their camp. The nursery was the main target, with the queens being difficult to get past.

“Take the kits alive if you can and run. Don’t let these cats follow you.” Rabbitstep called to the apprentices, as he and Longfang separated the queens from their kits. “Ones that have teeth already.” He specified when he noticed Batpaw picking up a newborn.

Each apprentice could only hold one kit at a time, but made excellent distance while the older cats were kept busy. A few warriors did chase them anyway. Three adults couldn’t hold back an entire clan, though Crowstar was a definite force to be reckoned with. Warrior Code was against killing, and Crowclan held no such reservations. It was Ivypaw’s idea to climb up trees with the kits and threaten to drop them that got the Windclan warriors to finally back off.

They escaped back to the carrionplace with three live kits and the fresh bodies of the patrol they had killed. The warriors had new wounds to tend to with no doubts of scars. The apprentices were shaken, but felt accomplished. 

Foxpaw, despite having stayed home, was unhappy. She didn’t eat that night. Robinpaw tried to cheer her, but was unsuccessful. Foxpaw could smell the death on her friend and for the first time since their kithood, the young she-cats slept alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Crowclan lives in the dump and don't mark territory, their camp can't be found by scent. As long as they aren't followed, the garbage hides them.

**Author's Note:**

> Visual Reference can be found here: http://skunktaildax.tumblr.com/post/162726876267/crowclan


End file.
